Priorities
by what.if.I.dont.want.a.pen.name
Summary: harry and ginny's relationship between the end of the last chapter and "Nineteen Years Later", might continue after that point, not yet determined. some relationship drama, humor, and ron/hermione included


As Harry walked past the dingy broom shed, two thoughts were running simultaneously through his head. The first caused the second, and the second made the first considerably more unbearable; however, he couldn't think straight enough to figure that out.

The butterflies in his stomach spread to his now throbbing head, fogging his thoughts. The butterflies turned into frogs, which then became rapidly breeding rabbits. It didn't occur to him that the second thing running through his mind was causing the mayhem in his gut; the only things he could feel were the throbbing and the churning, and he wasn't consciously thinking at all.

He reached the door—wait, he'd reached the door?! How? When? The surprise caught him off guard, clearing both thoughts temporarily from his mind. He spent a couple seconds in oblivion, reveling in the peaceful lapse of emotion for once in these recent days which had passed as a rollercoaster would, though in slow motion.

Then the reality hit him again. His first two thoughts came crashing in on him once more, with more fury this time and along with a wave of other thoughts. If the last days passed as a rollercoaster in slow-mo, then he was, at the moment, on a high-speed drop straight down. Doubts he'd never before had came creeping into his mind, crowding out the reason he'd come in the first place. What would happen? Would it all go as planned, as dreamt of, as fantasized about? Or would he be turned away? And if he was? What would happen then? Everything he'd ever wanted would be out of reach. Life would lose its meaning. He would have only two reasons to continue breathing, though even those would be farther out of touch if what he feared would happen did in fact come to pass. The painful reality of this possibility cut his breath short; he had returned to this life for two reasons, and two reasons only, though at the time, only one was at the forefront of his mind.

All his life, though he did not always know it, his purpose was to conquer Tom Riddle, more commonly known as Lord Voldemort. Most of his decisions were based around this fact, and it affected him even when he had no idea what his true fate was. As a child, his life was changed when Voldemort murdered his parents in cold blood. Each year at Hogwarts was affected differently by a combination of the Ministry and events involving either Death Eaters, Dementors, and/or Lord Voldemort himself. His friendships and relationships were affected by Lord Voldemort, people he cared about were killed, injured, or tortured...

That was all over now; it had been for 4 years, and Harry knew of only one thing that could make him happier. He had been able to make up his classes, exams, and NEWTS all in one summer with Hermione, Ron, and any other students who would have been seventh years the year Voldemort was conquered. The teachers had been more than obliging, and they all passed with flying colors. Harry and Ron got all "Exceeds Expectations" marks, Harry with an "Outsanding" in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Hermione outdid herself with all "Outstanding" notes. He'd finished his Auror training with them a year ago, and Ginny just finished Auror training three weeks ago.

Ginny. The girl that could comfort him no matter what, who rarely cried, and the only girl in front of whom Harry knew he would ever allow himself to cry. The girl who occupied his last thoughts before he was killed, and the second reason he chose to come back to this life. Killing Voldemort had been his purpose before, but with that purpose fulfilled, his only reason for being was the fiery redhead who appeared in his dreams every night. Now that the bit of Voldemort's soul that was captured in Harry was gone, it was almost as though Ginny filled the spot. Her soul wasn't a burden, however; he felt closer to her than ever. He was close to Ron and Hermione, yes, but if he hadn't come back, they had each other to love and they'd get on just fine. Ginny was a different story...hearing her scream his name when she thought he was dead was heart-wrenching; he was glad that he'd come back to be able to ease her pain. He needed her just as she needed him, and while neither of them showed it with as much flair and enthusiasm as Hermione and Ron displayed their affection, he knew that he made the right decision in coming back and facing the pain and the reality of a coming second death. He would have missed out on Ginny, and Ginny, he knew, he hoped, would have found someone else to love. At the very least, someone else would have found it in their hearts to love her, and he hoped that she would have allowed them. Yet thinking of how that's what it almost had come to... he couldn't bear the thought of some other slimy git's lips on hers...

Which is why it was so crucial to him that this one dream come true. So many of those whom he'd loved had been taken away from him, and if something happened today, his purpose would be lost. The thought of this possibility once again overcame him, and he felt the rabbits in his stomach quickly turn to worms. He dreaded walking into this building, dreaded what could happen.

The door to the Burrow opened, and he was brought out of his desolate thoughts by Mrs. Weasley.

"Harry, dear! Oh my, it's so nice to see you! We weren't expecting to see you until tomorrow!"

"I'm sorry Mrs. Weasley—"

"Oh, it's no fuss, dear. Come right on in. You'll have to pardon the mess though...Care for some onion soup?"

"Thanks a lot, Mrs. Weasley, but I'm afraid I don't really have an appetite right now..."

But Mrs. Weasley hadn't heard him; she had already headed into the kitchen to make him a bowl.

"I'm sorry, dear, what did you say?"

But considering the nature of his early visit, he decided it was best not to refuse her cooking.

"Oh, nothing, Mrs. Weasley. I was just saying how nice it smells in here."

"Why are you here early? Did something happen at work today? I can fetch Arthur for you, he's just upstairs—"

"No, nothing at work..."

There was a pause, and Harry looked up to see the ever-so-familiar look of appraisal that Mrs. Weasley gave him whenever she thought he looked "peaky".

"Dear, are you sure you're all right? You seem a bit...worried."

"No, I'm fine, really. Is Ginny here?"

"She wasn't meant to come back from Auntie Muriel's until tomorrow morning, dear, I thought you knew that."

"Sorry, I was just making sure. You can never tell whether Ginny will get fed up with her early or not."

"Erm, yes, Muriel does seem to grate on Ginny's nerves a bit. Did you want to speak with her? I'm sure we can send her a message with one of our Patronuses."

"No, erm, actually, I was checking to make sure she _wasn't_ here. I, erm, kind of wanted to talk about something to do with her, with you and Mr. Weasley, if that's all right?"

Mrs. Weasley looked a bit confused, which was out of character for her. Any other day, Mrs. Weasley would have picked up on the clues, especially the uncharacteristic "erms" that Harry was injecting into far too many sentences...but she seemed out of sorts today. Harry guessed it was the fact that no one had been to the Burrow since Ginny's graduation party two weeks ago.

"I'll call Arthur... ARTHUR!!!"

She turned around and bellowed up the stairs. Harry heard a clatter of something sounding like metal, and then, "Oh, ah, coming, Mollywobbles!"

Mrs. Weasley bypassed scarlet and turned crimson. She was furiously trying to avoid looking Harry in the eye, and as soon as Mr. Weasley descended the stairs, she rounded on him.

"Darling, we're not _alone_ at the moment," she whispered/snarled/screamed quietly with a sticky sweet tone. "Really, dear, you shouldn't call me that unless we're _in the same room."_ She was, apparently, under the impression that Harry couldn't hear her. He would have been more mollified than amused had he not already known this little tidbit about the Weasleys, and he tried, with surprising success, to suppress what would have been a rather loud, somewhat snorty smirk.

Mr. Weasley was caught off guard when he saw Harry and threw his wife an apologetic look before asking Harry, "And what, if I may ask, brings you here early, my boy?"

"Well, actually, I—"

But he was interrupted by a blustering Mrs. Weasley.

"Oh! Harry, your soup's gone cold! Here, let me warm it up for you—"

But no matter how much he didn't want to refuse her cooking, he was beginning to feel truly sick. Those worms were taking their toll, and he was reminded of the time Ron's curse had backfired at him in second year...

"Erm, Mrs. Weasley? I really love your cooking, but I honestly don't think I could get _anything_ in my stomach right now, to be perfectly honest."

Mrs. Weasley looked alarmed, and Harry feared the worst. But he needn't have, because "Oh, my! You look absolutely dreadful, darling. You're really quite green. Are you sure you're all right?"

"Well, to tell the truth, Mrs. Weasley, I don't feel on top form, but I think I'll be all right in a spell. You see, I came here because—"

But the reason for his visit finally dawned on the protective mother of six, and she interrupted him once again, hoping to put off the painful reality for at least a few more minutes.

"Really, dear, you should get some air. Fly around the pitch, or turn in for a bit. I bet you're exhausted; you really Apparated quite a distance today, I'm sure it's just mental exhaustion."

Harry was about to speak, but Mr. Weasley got there first, saying as he gave Harry a meaningful glance, "How about Harry and I work on mucking the chickens? It could relax his mind a bit, it's a rather routine chore, and he's done it before, haven't you, Harry?"

"Yes, sir, I certainly have."

"Alright, then, it's settled. He can help us finish what we were going to by tomorrow, Molly, how's that sound? We can use all the help we can find."

"Yeah, I'd love to help out since I surprised you. Sorry, I really should have checked first, Mrs. Weasley."

Mrs. Weasley saw that she had no choice but to oblige. The two men headed out to "muck out the chickens".

"So what's on your mind, Harry? Work all right?"

"Yeah, it's nothing like that..."

"You know you can tell me anything, Harry."

"I know, it's just hard to get started."

"Completely understandable. However, I, unlike my wife, it seems, have no idea what you want to talk about, so enlightening me would make everything a whole lot easier."

Mr. Weasley smiled kindly, and Harry's fears were momentarily placated.

"Well, I was wondering, well, hoping, really, that, erm, now that Ginny's out of training and all, if I could, erm, ask her to marry me?"

Relief that he had finally spat it out washed over him, but then a bucket of dread as to the pending reply of his hopeful father-in-law-to-be dumped on his head, making him shiver.

"Funny, how you can face Voldemort and death at once without looking back, but it's so hard to ask for the hand of the girl you love, isn't it?"

"Well, truth be told, Mr. Weasley, Ginny's much more intimidating than Riddle. That might be part of why I love her so much, truth be told."

Mr. Weasley laughed out loud, examing the "exhaust gaskin" on his still-in-disrepair secret.

"Yes, Molly has the same effect on me, Harry. Women are just like that."

"Definitely. Anyway, I'd like to have your permission before I propose, and I'd like you to understand just how much I care about your daughter, Mr. Weasley."

"You certainly have my permission, my dear boy, but it's Molly you need to worry about. I know how much you care about Ginny, I can hear it as you speak right now, but I do admit it's difficult to give you the hand of my only daughter. She's my little girl, and there's no one I'd rather hold her hand than you, but it's still hard for a father to watch his little angel grow up into a strong-willed woman who's deeply in love. Pardon me in advance if you see a little water shed from these old eyes anytime soon, Harry. It's nothing to do with you, it's more just a father's love. Women really soften you, you know."

"Boy, do I know. Ginny's really something at breaking down my defenses. I was never a good Occlumens, though, so it shouldn't be too hard. Still, no one else has been able to do it so well as her. Not even Snape."

"So when do you plan to ask her?"

"Well, I was thinking of doing it as soon as possible, but I still need to get the ring."

"I'm sure there's a ring Auntie Muriel passed down—"

"I was thinking of buying her a simple diamond with a small ruby and emerald on either side. I think she'd like that much more that a big heirloom rock. Knowing Ginny, she'd feel like a trophy wearing a ring like that, and that's not what she is to me at all."

"You make an admirable point, but will Molly go for it?"

"I hope so, but I can't be sure."

"You understand, don't you, why she's having such a hard time with this?"

"I think so, but I'm not sure...Could you explain it to me? I'm never good at reading women."

"Yes, well, you see, all her kids are grown, moved out, married, or..."

Mr. Weasley trailed off.

"I understand."

"Yes, so you understand why she wants to hold on to Ginny as long as possible?"

"Absolutely. She'd be lonely at the big old Burrow with just two people, and she loves having as much of the family together as possible. And Ginny's her only daughter; she's bound to feel a bit more protective of her, too."

"Exactly. I'll try to work on her. Why don't you talk to her, too?"

"I'll try, Mr. Weasley, but I have a feeling she'll just stuff more food into my mouth."

"You're probably, right, but it's worth a go anyway, don't you think?"

"Absolutely."

As they walked back toward the house, Harry realized that he'd just talked to Mr. Weasley about love in almost the same way he would have talked to Dumbledore. _It's funny how we can talk about this as though it's a Quidditch match_, Harry thought. _It's funny how loving the same girl can bring two men, so different, so close together._


End file.
